


Three Countries

by Val Mora (valmora)



Category: Yūkan Club
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2008, happily the political references in this fic are dated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valmora/pseuds/Val%20Mora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noriko and Seishiro: perfect couple. Except Noriko doesn't think so, and gave Miroku a hint as to why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Countries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psychomachia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/gifts).



> Special thanks to Becky Roberts (notaverse on AO3 and LJ) for being willing to beta this despite dying of work.

Miroku wasn't there when Seishiro first asked Noriko out, but he heard about it from Karen, and from Bido. Apparently he'd been pretty romantic about it - a letter, brought to her home by one of his family's employees, requesting her presence. Not being there so as not to pressure her.

She said yes, of course, and Miroku wasn't surprised. It had been too long in coming. Miroku had kind of expected it, knowing that Seishiro was one of the few men whom Noriko didn't detest.

And he was happy for them, that Noriko could be happy, and Seishiro, too. They were always together now, close but not touching, talking, playing _go_ as they had always done. But he was jealous. Jealous that Seishiro could have a beautiful girl all his own, perfect for him, when Miroku had to live off his crushes on unavailable girls and uninterested boys.

He had meant to have a crush on Yuri, when he was younger. It would have been natural - she was brash, loud, a good match for his family. And if not her then maybe Noriko, quiet and reserved and clean-edged, a marble statue come to life, out of his reach but not a bad dream.

Instead it was Seishiro, steel and water, blade of his mind fitting against Miroku's thoughts until they could speak, nearly think, for each other. He knew Seishiro's strength, and his sense of fun, and knew that Seishiro knew the dark places in Miroku's soul that Noriko would never have stood and Yuri would never see because she wouldn't want to see and of which Miroku was at once embarrassed and proud.

He wanted Seishiro. Badly. And when Seishiro got the girl that Miroku should have wanted, it was all Miroku could do to pretend he was crying only for joy and relief, instead of mixing his happiness with horrified disappointment.

Of course, Noriko was perfect for Seishiro - her art to his science, her gentleness to his strength, her wisdom to his brilliance. It was a good match.

So they were going out, and things proceeded apace in their romance just the way everyone expected, and when Miroku saw them - which wasn't often, now that Seishiro was at Toudai and Noriko at Ochadai and Miroku emphatically _not_ \- he was relieved that things were going well. Seishiro was always a perfect gentleman to her whenever the Yukan Club got together again over vacations - carrying things for her, carefully not-touching her unless she reached for him first, giving her gifts of calligraphy and expensive tea ceremony tools and...

And then two months before Seishiro was to graduate, Miroku - in the middle of debugging his latest computer program - got a phone call from Noriko.

"Hey."

"Miroku, would you like to meet for dinner tonight?"

"Yeah, of course. `s Seishiro coming?"

"No. I was hoping to talk to you..." Her voice faded into polite suggestion. Right. Miroku could take a hint.

"Where d'you want to meet?"

"Where would you like?"

"Myogadani station is close to Ochadai, right?"

"Yes."

"What time?"

"Five-thirty."

"Sure. I'll be there. Later."

"Good-bye."

He didn't call anyone else. If Noriko had wanted to talk to someone else, she'd have called them.

  
  
  
Over dinner, Noriko picked at her fish as they made conversation, and it was patently obvious something was wrong but she didn't want to impose. Finally Miroku, getting impatient, leaned forward over the table and asked, "Hey. Noriko. What's wrong."

"Oh," she said, shoulders slumping, "I thought you'd never ask. It's Seishiro. He proposed to me two days ago."

Miroku ignored the sudden envious lurch of his heart and eyed her empty ring finger. "You said yes, right?"

"I told him I'd _think about it_." She looked down at her food, laying her chopsticks down across her plate, fiddling with them until they were parallel to the edge of the table, touching.

"But why! You're so good for each other - and you love him, right? And he loves you-"

"Don't be _stupid_ ," Noriko said hotly, strangely aggressive, and drew herself back up. "Yes. I do love him. And we are a good match, because he respects me, and my space, and because he is not filthy he doesn't try to impose on me. That would not change if we were married. But I don't want to marry him."

"Why not?"

"Do you remember," she asked quietly, "when he agreed to marry Yuri, just for the power of the Kenbishi Corporation?"

"Yeah, of course."

"I am afraid that he would marry me in order to give me his friendship and support."

"But he..." Miroku shut up. "Why don't you talk to him?"

"I wouldn't want to hurt his pride." She picked up her chopsticks and ate some rice. "He's terribly strong, and smart, and I love him very much and want him the best in the world. And that's why I want you to be ready for when he calls you tomorrow to say that I turned down his proposal."

"How do you know he doesn't love you?" Miroku was losing this. Why wouldn't Noriko just _marry_ the man? It was clear they were good for each other -

"Because," she replied softly, taking out her purse and counting out bills to pay for her mostly-untouched meal, "only in Belgium, or Spain, or Canada would he be allowed to marry for love."

"What?"

"Thank you for helping me decide, Miroku. It was very kind of you to meet me for dinner. I'm sorry that I have to go, but please, don't rush your meal to accommodate me. I'll pay for yours as well."

"What?" He stared blankly at her, confused, as she left. What had that been about? And just great - now it was his fault his best friend's wedding wasn't going to happen, all because Noriko had gotten this funny idea in her head that Seishiro didn't _love_ her, which was patently stupid because what other man would respect her need for distance so well?

He finished his meal, and hers too, since he was hungry and always thought better on a full stomach, and went back to his apartment to call the rest of the Yukan Club to find out what Canada, Spain, and Belgium had in common.

  
  
  
"It's not the food," Yuri informed him, talking into the phone through what Miroku assumed was a mouthful of noodles. Judging by the slurping noises. "Nothing alike. I've been to enough eating contests in all of those places to know."

  
  
  
"It's not wedding planning," Karen said. "None of those are wedding destinations. Spain, maybe, for the honeymoon, but...Seishiro would want to get married here. Traditional Shinto ceremony, because he's old-fashioned like that. But who'd want to actually go to Belgium to get married, unless they wanted to marry chocolate?"

  
  
  
"It's not the women," Bido said when Miroku called him. "I know he knows English, but I don't think Seishiro speaks Spanish. Probably a little French, but don't they use Dutch in Belgium? And he'd want to be able to talk to a woman to romance her. So he can't be looking at those women - besides, what makes Canada different from America?"

" _I_ don't know," Miroku said. "National health care system? But we have that here."

  
  
  
So he was left at a dead end, because Noriko clearly didn't want to tell him and he couldn't ask Seishiro, and of course he couldn't ask his parents about Seishiro's girl problems.

Instead he spent the night wondering why Noriko thought that Seishiro would be unhappy with her when they'd been dating so long - four years, even - and Seishiro'd never expressed discontent and never hinted that he didn't...

Oh. It clicked, a horrified revelation. Seishiro wouldn't back down even if he'd long since fallen out of love for her; he'd go on pretending he still cared for her _like that_ so that Noriko would be happy. He'd gotten better at fooling Miroku since his engagement to Yuri was broken off; Miroku hated to think it, but maybe Seishiro had completely fooled everyone but Noriko.

He was awoken in the middle of the night by Seishiro's phone call.

"Hey," Miroku said, hitting the `call' button on his cell phone.

"I am," Seishiro enunciated, "somewhat drunk. Please keep me company."

"Where are you?"

"Apartment."

"Don't go anywhere. I'm going to come over." Miroku hung up before Seishiro could reply, grabbed his umbrella and a bag, and left his apartment.

  
  
  
Seishiro was a little more sober by the time Miroku got there, and let him into the apartment building. He didn't look like himself - no sweater, tie loosened, wrinkled trousers, the top button on his shirt undone. His eyes didn't quite track Miroku's movements as Miroku took his shoes off at the door and sat down at the table.

"What's wrong?" Miroku asked, to keep up at least the pretense of ignorance. 

"She told me _no_. And then broke up with me."

"No to what?"

"I wanted to _marry_ her. Isn't that what she wanted? A husband who'd take care of her, not hurt her, not touch her. I wouldn't have touched her."

"I don't think she wants a husband who won't touch her. Just one who isn't disgusting and doesn't take liberties. I mean, she likes bad boys with hearts of gold."

Seishiro took a sip of the glass of water sitting on the table. "But she said she loved me. If she loves me, why did she say no?"

"I have no idea," Miroku lied, and then, "Say, what do Canada and Spain have in common?" Maybe Seishiro wouldn't know either, and then Miroku would be able to pressure Noriko more about it. Because then it would be really obscure.

"I don't know," Seishiro replied, too quickly and dashing Miroku's hopes at getting Noriko to spill. "Why don't you look it up online?"

"Right," Miroku said, pulling out his cell phone and typing into a search engine the names of the three countries Noriko mentioned.

"Oh," he said, after looking at the results. "Cell phone coverage. I'd wondered."

"No," Seishiro replied, "I don't think that's what Noriko meant."

Miroku bit the inside of his cheek. Busted.

"What she means," Seishiro continued, shifting position into formal seiza, looking disheveled and heart-sick, "is that I am subject to romantic interest in my own sex, and that she will not marry a man who is marrying her to get out of having to ever have sex with women because he's too afraid to admit that he prefers men."

Miroku went cold, and then hot, ashamed by Seishiro's easy dismissal of his lie, and by his own sudden desire to take advantage of Seishiro's trust to fold himself into Seishiro's space, skin to skin and one breath between them.

"No wonder she didn't want to marry you," Miroku said, and then cringed.

"I'll get over it," Seishiro replied, taking another sip from his glass. "She made me admit to myself that I didn't really want to marry her. And - the other thing."

"I'm glad you're still friends, though."

"Yes, although this means now I have to start worrying about her love life again."

Miroku grinned. "I think she can do that for herself now."

Seishiro hummed his amusement.

  
  
  


That night, after Seishiro gently threw him out, Miroku had by far the most erotic dream that he'd ever remembered. All the buttoned-and-tied layers of Seishiro's clothing falling open under Miroku's hands, cotton and silk and then skin. Seishiro's voice, thrumming in Miroku's blood, heat and vibration.

He'd woken before he got to the good part, but he wasn't sure he even minded, if he didn't want to save the best for at least a few nights. And if that hadn't been the best he wasn't sure what would happen to him when it did come; he woke hungry and touch-starved, the imagined sensation of Seishiro's hands on his body very nearly tangible.

On his way to class he called Seishiro and left a message on his phone: "Dinner. Call me."

  
  
  
He and Seishiro started meeting up more often after that, sometimes with Noriko or one of the others but usually not. They spent a lot of time being themselves, silent, in Miroku's room or Seishiro's apartment, Miroku doing his homework and Seishiro doing his reading, sometimes getting dinner delivered.

By the week after graduation, Seishiro was clearly mostly over his rejection by Noriko, and Noriko confided to them that she had bought a ticket to Kanazawa and would be meeting up with Yuya. There was nothing Miroku could say but to wish her luck; Seishiro, looking concerned, whispered a few things into her ear. Miroku could only guess that they were things like "Don't be afraid to hit him" and "If you need to come home early, just do it." And, judging by her flush, something about kissing.

After dinner he went back to Seishiro's apartment while Noriko went home to pack for her trip.

He sat on Seishiro's floor, chewing on the straw left from a jelly drink from a vending machine they'd stopped at on their way back, and pretended to program while instead watching Seishiro put away laundry.

It made him wonder a little what it would be like to fish Seishiro's ridiculous striped socks out of his laundry in ten years. If he'd like it, or if it would just annoy him, trying to live like himself - messy, disorganized, social - in Seishiro's meticulously clean space. If he could do it, or if they'd end up with halves of the room like they'd have halves of the bed, and then he realized he was staring at Seishiro, who was staring back.

"Are you all right?" Seishiro asked.

Miroku shrugged, lopsidedly, unsure how to answer.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"No thanks." He wanted to drink Seishiro's breath, his pleasure. Nothing to drink at all.

Seishiro exhaled, putting away the last of his dry clothes, and knelt down again at the table. "I have a small question to ask you," he said, more formally even than usual.

"All right."

"Excuse me for perhaps being forward," Seishiro began, "but it occurs to me that I rather feel that you are, without actually dating me, dating me. Is this so?" And Miroku nearly couldn't answer, except Seishiro looked like he thought it was funny, uneven mouth tilting and hands precisely resting on his knees and a throaty edge to his voice that meant he was suppressing a laugh.

"Yes," Miroku said. "Sorry."

"I don't mind." Seishiro leaned forward slightly, setting his palm on the back of Miroku's laptop screen. "'s it okay?"

Miroku took his hands off the keyboard and hooked two fingers through Seishiro's tie, pulling him closer even as Seishiro slammed the lid of Miroku's laptop shut and kissed him. 

 


End file.
